


New Strength Awakening

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-10-19
Updated: 2002-10-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 04:19:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10352127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: Season: Pre-Stargate the MovieSummary: Sara discovers that the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is as empty as the man who has come home to her. Sequel toReflection of Mere Pride





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

New Strength Awakening

O spare me, that I may recover strength, before I go hence, and be no more.

Psalms 39:13

Sara O’Neill was sleeping with a stranger. A stranger who wore a mask which looked like her husband, but wasn’t. It was a imposter masquerading as Jack O’Neill and Sara was afraid. In the weeks since Jack had come home, Sara had learned to hide behind her own mask. A mask which smiled and laughed on cue. One which said the right things to the right people and pretended that everything was wonderful while her world was falling apart. Thrust into a leading role which she had no desire to portray Sara was trapped with no sign of the intermission in sight. She was on stage with this stranger who was her husband. They played out this drama in full view of an audience who had the power to destroy Jack’s career should they see through the guise of normalcy.

As she feigned sleep, her nerves taut, Sara lay motionless, fearful that simply by turning over, her movement would trigger another of Jack’s nightmares.

It was just one more painful reminder of how much life had changed. Sara wondered what it would be like to sleep on a pillow that wasn’t damp with her tears. She wondered what it would be like to snuggle close to Jack, his strong arms wrapped protectively around her, making her feel safe and secure in his love. They had been closer when Jack was in Iraq than they were while lying in the same bed. But as she lay silently staring into the darkness, Sara knew that there was a gulf separating her and Jack, just as there had been one while he was gone. She didn’t understand how it had happened, or why, but Sara sensed that Jack was locked away from her as surely as when he had been a prisoner. He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell her how to unlock the cell.

It would have been easy to tell herself that she should have known what to expect. But she hadn’t. The infrequent visits from the base chaplain hadn’t prepared her. And fear had kept her from asking too many questions, or seeking too many answers. Fear that, in the asking, she might be ripping off the lid to the Pandora’s Box of truths that she had carefully avoided.

Thinking back to the day Jack had come home, Sara was appalled at how naive she had been only a few weeks ago. Somehow she had thought that the ordeal of Jack’s capture would be over once he came home. How stupid, how unprepared she had been for the man who walked in her front door. Her mind drifted back to that day before reality invaded her life.

**********

She had stood watching out the window, the mutilated magazine lay twisted and abandoned on the couch. Too anxious to sit still Sara had gravitated to the window. The Johnson boy was riding his bike down the sidewalk. His Dad must have taken off his training wheels. Old Mr. Michaels toiled slowly with a hoe in his flowerbed. Most days his rheumatism keep the poor man from working in his yard. On those days Sara tried to go over and at least pull the worst of the weeds for him. It took up a few of the endless minutes of her day and it made the old man happy knowing someone cared. Since the death of his wife last year, he had been so lonely. Sara knew exactly how he felt. 

Mr. Michaels was retired Air Force. He had flown over the Pacific in the second World War. Once, a lifetime ago, Sara could have counted on Jack and Charlie disappearing for a couple of hours every Sunday afternoon. Somehow they always found their way into the Michaels’ den. Jack, relaxed and comfortably casual, lounging in the overstuffed ottoman and Charlie curled contentedly in his father’s lap, listening with rapt attention as Mr. Michaels told tales of long ago victories. 

Letting the curtain drop, Sara wondered how everything could possible seem so normal. Shouldn’t today look different? Surely everyone should be able to tell the difference. Sara ran a critical eye over the room. It was spotless. Since the day over three and a half months ago when she had received the call from Colonel West informing her of Jack’s POW status, Sara had been filled with nervous energy she could not control. 

Uncertainty, apprehension, and anger left her unable to rest. Like a thief who had slunk unexpectedly into her life, it had stolen her peace. Now it lurked in the shadows waiting the opportunity to ambush. Quiet became her enemy. One which sought every opportunity to bombard her fragile emotions with fears and doubts. And so she stayed busy to keep the enemy at bay. Caring for her son, helping neighbors, gardening, and cleaning house, making plans for when Jack came home, and telling herself that the nightmare was almost over and soon she would wake up.

It was strange, Sara had always enjoyed her solitude, her quiet time, but then so did 

Jack. It was something she and Jack had learned early in their marriage. They enjoyed simply being together. Talk wasn’t necessary. There was harmony in silence as well. But now she was on guard against the silence. She feared that in it she would have to face too many truths that Jack’s capture had wrought into her life.

Sara gently straightened a picture hanging on the wall near the stairs. A treasured moment captured and frozen in time. The three of them sat in a canoe floating on the crystal blue waters of Minnesota as the waves gently lapped at the sides. Charlie had just caught his first fish and as he attempted to maintain control of his thrashing trophy, Grandpa O’Neill had snapped the picture. Sara’s eyes misted as she noted the identical look of excitement and pride mirrored in the faces of both her boys and reflected in that picture. It was a representation of all the good that was in their life.

Wandering out into the kitchen to check on dinner, Sara glanced at the clock. Surely it was time. It had to be time. Oh God, please let it be time for Jack to come home.

The day had finally arrived, after months of waiting, begging, praying, counting the hours, minutes, seconds. The colonel’s office had called to inform her that Jack would arrive this afternoon. After the debriefing, Colonel West would have his aide drive the captain home. It had taken every ounce of her self-control not to tell them to shove the colonel’s debriefing and bring her husband home immediately. But Jack was still in the Air Force and she was still an officer’s wife and years of practiced discipline made her hold her tongue even though in her mind she was screaming and stomping her feet over the injustice of making her wait even another minute. 

Sara wished with all her heart that she had the courage to pick up the phone and call Liz. She missed her friend. She longed for the unwavering support the Cromwells had provided. But their friendship had been a casualty of the war as surely as Jack. Sara could only hope that their friendship would survive and come back to her, just as her husband was today.

Five and a half months had passed, somehow, since she had received the news of Jack’s death. For two months she had struggled with the reality of his death, living in her own 

Hell as she fought to comprehend that he was gone. And then the call came telling her that Jack was alive. That he was a prisoner in an Iraqi prison, injured but alive. For another two months she fought a new battle as the enemy called in reserve troops. And when she had, at last, received word that Jack had been released, she’d had no idea that it would be yet another month and a half before he would be allowed to come home. And it had been this time, while Jack lay in a hospital recovering, that had been the hardest of all. 

Sara had wanted with all her heart to immediately go to Jack. She was puzzled and more than a little hurt when she was told by the hospital administration that she could not visit her husband. It was even more confusing when she was told that it was by the Captain O’Neill’s own request that he not receive visitors. It was one more thing Sara chose not to dwell on. 

Jack had always hated the hospital with a passion that was legendary on the base. She joked with him that the reason he healed so fast was because he hated lying around in the hospital being forced to follow orders. Gently cupping her face in his hands he told her it had nothing to do with orders. It was simply because he couldn’t stand being away from her a minute more than he had to. Sara couldn’t help, but smile at the memory of it. Even the horrific parachute accident had kept him down only a few weeks. For Jack to remain in the hospital for this length of time frightened her. Over and over she asked herself what had happened to her husband, but she found no answers. Nothing could have prepared her for the truth.

Sara bent over the oven, carefully spooning the dripping on the roast, hoping that it wouldn’t dry out before Jack arrived. The potatoes were whipped to perfect smoothness, the vegetables seasoned, and Jack’s favorite kind of pie sat cooling on the counter. Just as she basted the roast one more time, Sara heard the front door open. "Jack," she whispered. The spoon dropped from her nerveless fingers. 

He stood with his back to her as he spoke quietly to the airman who deposited his duffel inside the door, snapped off a quick salute, and left. As the door closed, Sara whispered, "Jack." He turned slowly. Sara never remembered crossing the room as she threw her arms around his waist, buried her face against his shoulder and began to cry. Awkwardly, Jack wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders and lay his cheek on her soft hair. She was unaware of the haunted look in her husband’s dark eyes.

Supper was a quiet affair with Jack staring at his plate while he picked at the food. Sara found herself unsure what to say. Suddenly it seemed that it would have been easier to talk to a stranger at the grocery store than the withdrawn, silent man sitting across from her. All her attempts to make conversation was thwarted by his one word answers. She was perplexed by Jack’s refusal to look at her until she realized just how tired he must be. That must be the problem. 

"Why don’t you go take a shower and relax while I clean up the dishes," Sara suggested. 

"Dad is keeping Charlie over night. I thought you might want to sleep in late. Dad said he’d bring him home around lunchtime, if that’s okay with you."

Jack simply nodded and walked slowly towards the stairs.

The dishes hadn’t taken long. Grabbing a couple of towels from the hamper, Sara walked into the bathroom just as Jack was stepping from the shower. An inadvertent gasp escaped from her lips and her smile died as she saw the scars which decorated her husband’s thin body. Snatching the towels from her, Jack quickly covered himself and pushed pass Sara. She stood mutely, her blue eyes wide with the horror, as she confronted the reality of what had been done to her husband. 

By the time Sara was able to work up the courage to face the truth, Jack was curled up in bed, his back to her. Slipping into bed, Sara slid next to Jack’s warm body. Words failed her as she reached out and gently stroked his back. She was unprepared as he cringed, trying to avoid her touch. "Jack ...?"

She hardly recognized the harsh whisper as he interrupted, "Sara, I’m tired."

Tears stung her eyes. She wiped them away scolding herself for being childish. But as Sara turned away from her husband she couldn’t keep the hot tears from flowing. 

**********

Life fell into a routine that imitated normalcy, but mocked everything they had once had. 

During the day they both worked hard, pretending that everything was fine. Avoidance became an oft used tactic. During the night it was harder to pretend. Sara lay awake, aching from Jack’s rejection and hating her body for betraying her need for the intimacy they had once shared. 

Charley had begun having nightmares, undoubtedly in response to the tension that permeated the house. As she held her son and stroked his head, crooning words of love, she listened as he poured out his fear of the bogeyman hiding in his closet. Snuggling next to the little boy as he drifted off to sleep, Sara wished with all her heart that she could climb in a closet of her own and hide from this nightmare she was trapped in. She wanted to pull the covers up over her head and hide from her own demons, but she had learned a long time ago that it didn’t work and now the bogeyman lived at her house and hid in her closet.

The first night it had happened Sara had been frightened half to death. Jack thrashing, striking out, screaming foreign sounding words she didn’t understand. As she had reached a tentative hand out to comfort him, Jack had lashed out at her, striking a glancing blow off her cheek. Stunned, she had withdrawn and watched as her husband had retreated to the their closet and sat in the dark, rocking. His knees drawn up to his chest, Jack stared transfixed on a scene beyond their bedroom. Fearfully, Sara had knelt on the floor in front of Jack and softly began to talk to him, just as she did for her son. Weaving a blanket of protection and safety with her words, Sara watched as Jack slowly came back from the place he had been trapped. He blinked and as if suddenly recognizing who she was and unable to face the love and pity he read in her eyes, he fled. Ignoring her plea to stop, Jack escaped into the backyard where he spent the rest of the night staring at the stars. Upstairs a million miles away in their bedroom, Sara crawled back into bed, physically as well as mentally exhausted, and wept. What had happened to Jack? What was happening to him now? Jack was hiding his heart from her. He was hiding his scarred soul and she had never felt so alone.

**********

Sara knelt in the soil of her garden. She was once again seeking solace as she dug in the soft dirt. Fleeing the fears and conflicts, Sara was drawn to the beauty of living things. Trembling fingers gently touching a tightly closed flower bud. Sara saw herself when she looked at that bud, closed and hidden against the outside influences. Waiting only for the right time to uncurl and bloom. It was so hard to wait.

If only there was someone she could talk to, someone who would understand. Sara closed her eyes as a picture invaded her thoughts of the night that Frank and Liz Cromwell had knocked on the door. She had opened the door, a look of surprise and happiness causing tears to spring to her eyes. Oh she had missed Liz so much. Charlie had chosen that moment to run into the room and with a happy shout flung himself into Frank’s arms. Caught off guard, Frank had none-the-less swept the little boy into his arms and given him a fierce hug. He froze as Jack walked into the room. 

Sara didn’t think she would ever forget the hatred and loathing in her husband’s eyes as he stared at the man who had been his best friend. 

"Sara," he said his eyes never leaving Frank’s face, "tell that son of a bitch to let go of my son and get the hell out of my house."

Sara stood mutely as Jack turned and left the room. "Frank," she whispered, "I’m so sorry."

She watched as Frank set Charlie down, ruffled his hair, and gave his little bottom a playful smack. "See you around, Tiger," he said softly. Glancing up at Sara’s strained, pale face, he shook his head. "I’m sorry, too Sara. I had to try." Without another word he left. 

Jack had left the house only to return hours later, more drunk than she had ever seen him. Although Sara had heard rumors of what had occurred between Jack and Frank it was simply one more thing they didn’t talk about.

Sara carefully dug around the tender roots of the young plants she wanted to transplant. 

She could hear the radio playing next door as the Johnson’s teenage daughter lay sunning in the lounger on the deck. 

To think that only yesterday,

I was cheerful, bright and gay. 

Looking forward to, and who wouldn’t do, 

The role I was about to play.

But as if to knock me down,

Reality came around,

And without so much as a mere touch,

Cut me into little pieces.

Leaving me to doubt, all about God and His mercy,

Oh, if He really does exist,

Why did He desert me?

And in my hour of need, I truly am, indeed,

Alone again, naturally. 

Sara’s eyes were suddenly blinded by hot tears. Her breath caught in her throat and a sob was wrenched from her chest. She plunged the trowel she clutched in her fist into the ground over and over, chopping the tender plants to bits. She was startled when a hand gently touched her shoulder. Looking up into eyes filled with understanding and compassion, Sara couldn’t control the tears leaving salty tracks as they washed down her dirty face. "Give him time, Misses, that’s all he needs," Mr. Michaels said gently. He’s got a long way to go before he can come home."

"I don’t understand," Sara sniffed. "Jack is home."

"I was there too, in that place where Jack is now," the old man told her, giving a little grunt as he knelt down beside her. "I was a POW in World War II. Got shot down over Guam towards the end of the war. Lived through nine months of Hell." For a moment as Sara watched, the old man struggled with memories of things which had passed nearly a half century ago. "When I came home I kept having nightmares," he continued. "I couldn’t talk about what I went through. I couldn’t even tell Katie. Talking about it made it too real. I couldn’t put her through it. I loved her too much to let her find out how much ugliness existed in the World. I thought I was protecting her, but I was wrong. God forgive me, I was wrong. She knew. It was just something we never talked about. Never did. You just sort of learn to move on with life, but you never forget and you never forgive."

Sara’s tears stopped at the realization of what the man had shared with her. Obviously time didn’t heal all wounds, even after a lifetime. "You never talked about it?" Sara whispered.

"No," The man shook his head sadly and I never knew until years later that by shutting her out, I had put her through her own Hell. It’s one of the things I’ll regret all the rest of my days. What I did to the woman I loved when I shut her out of my life like that."

Even Mr. Michaels’ elderly eyes had no trouble seeing the pain of the young woman sitting in the dirt beside him. Wrapping his arm around Sara as she leaned against his shoulder, he said tenderly, "Jack loves you, Sara. Don’t you ever doubt that for a minute. This is just something he has to work his way through. Sometimes when we go through storms in our lives, we drag those we love with us. You and Charlie are caught in Jack’s storm, but you’ll survive, and you’ll be all the stronger for it. Remember this is only for a season."

Sara’s battered soul sucked in the comforting words like dry soil accepting water after a drought. She gleaned new strength and prayed that she would have the endurance to see this storm through before it drowned her beneath the dark raging waves.

**********

Time passed and while it was never easy, Sara discovered a determination buried deep within herself. And while the walls Jack had built around himself hurt her, Sara refused to allow them to destroy her. If nothing else Sara O’Neill was a survivor and some way, somehow she was going to find a way to remind Jack that he was too. But for now, Jack was still distant, locked away in an invisible cage from which she longed to free him.

She and Jack smiled their way through the ceremony in which he was promoted to major. 

Jack had always been skillful at hiding his feelings and his time in Iraq seemed to have polished that skill to perfection. It was a skill Sara was quickly learning to master as well. There was no visible sign of the cancer which was eating the family alive. That is unless one were to note the dark circles under Sara’s eyes from too many nights of interrupted sleep, as Jack’s nightmares continued to torment the both of them. Or perhaps the lines etched around her mouth as she fought to keep her emotions at bay. Maybe someone might have noticed the way her hands trembled slightly or her pale features, but Sara fought to hide these symptoms and it would have been necessary to look closely to see beneath the surface. The brass saw what they wanted to see, what Sara wanted them to see, and the cancer grew unchecked. 

Who could have known that it would be something as simple as a television show and a child, which became the catalyst for the events which finally breached the fortress in which Jack was trapped. 

Charlie was confused and hurt by his dad’s reclusive attitude, but in the resilient manner of children, he adapted to the circumstances thrown in his path. Life was what it was. 

But there were times when he wished that he had his "before dad." His before dad didn’t make his mom cry. His before dad took long hikes with him and taught him the names of the stars. His before dad would sneak into his room in the morning and tickled him awake. And then they would wrestle and somehow Charlie would always manage to win before mom called them to breakfast.

Charlie lay in his bed. He hoped that maybe today would be the day and his dad would come and play. When Sara called him for breakfast he was still laying there waiting. 

********** 

Sara had just finished making an enormous bowl of popcorn. Charlie’s favorite movie, 

The Wizard of Oz was being shown on TV tonight and she wanted to make it as special as she could for the little boy. Charlie had practically memorized the movie and in the past Sara could have counted on Jack and Charlie playing their game of taking turns quoting favorite lines. Sara caught her breath as she suddenly remembered the last time they had watched the movie together. Jack had crept up behind her as she buttered the popcorn and catching her slim waist, he had twirled her madly around the kitchen saying, "I’ll get you my pretty, and your little dog, too." The bowl she was holding became a casualty of the human tornado and it looked for a while as if the yellow brick road were made of buttered popcorn. Then Jack had grabbed Charlie and lifting him high above his head the flying monkey and the Scarecrow had landed in Oz, stretched out on the rug together ready to enjoy the show.

It hurt Sara to see the hopeful glances Charlie threw his father’s way. Sending him an unspoken invitation to join him on the floor. But Jack sat, silent and withdrawn in a chair and refused to acknowledge the implicit pleas. It hurt Sara to see Jack rejecting his son, just as he was rejecting her. 

They watched the movie in silence, interrupted only by Charlie’s little voice overlapping the oft heard lines. Dorothy clicked the ruby slippers together and repeated, "There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home." Sara was startled as Jack made a harsh choking sound. It almost sounded like a sob, but before she could be sure, Jack had risen from his chair knocking the popcorn over in his haste to escape. 

Charlie’s eyes welled with tears. "Dad?"

Seeing the hurt on her child’s face, something deep inside Sara snapped. Rising from her chair, she said quietly, "Quit running away from us, Jack." When he stopped Sara turned to her son she said, "Charlie, please go to your room, your Dad and I need to talk.

As Charlie left the room, Sara watched her husband, his back turned from her, his head hanging in unspoken despair. Steeling herself Sara walked towards him. "You’re still locked up, Jack, only this time you hold the key. Unlock the door. Please, come back to us," she begged. "I need you. Charlie needs you. We love you. We want you back. Please, please don’t lock us out of your life. Let us in.There were tears in her eyes threatening to spill over, but she held them in check. 

"Sara," Jack whispered harshly, "you don’t understand. I can’t ..."

Suddenly, Sara was angry, more furious than she had ever been in her life. The bottled emotions she had kept tightly corked erupted, spewing out everything she had carefully hidden away.

Taking a step towards Jack, her blue eyes flashing fire, she snapped, "You’re right, Jack, I can’t understand. How could I when you won’t talk to me? When you’ve shut me off from your life. When you won’t even touch me. We haven’t made love once since you came home. What’s going on, Jack, have you been studying for the priesthood and forgot to tell me? I guess you forgot one thing about that celibacy vow, O’Neill. You’ve got a wife, you bastard, and she loves you." Sara caught her breath. "... and she misses you and she needs you. Not just an empty shell pretending to live here. Quit pretending, Jack, it’s not fair. You’ve never quit on anything in your life. Don’t quit on us. Don’t let this beat you. Climb out of that shell. Charlie and I need you. We need you." Taking a deep sobbing breath, Sara glared at her husband and ignoring his shocked expression she turned and ran for the patio door. 

Later, much later, Sara stood silently, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She didn’t turn as the patio door opened quietly and Jack walked across the yard to where she stood looking up at the stars. She stiffened as he wrapped his arms around her trembling body.

"You’re cold," he whispered. "I’m so sorry, Baby. Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, you and Charlie," his voice caught. Burying his face in her hair he said softly, "I don’t ever want to lose you. I swear, Sara, I won’t ever let anything hurt you like this again. I can beat this thing. I know I can, if you’ll give me another chance."

Turning, Sara O’Neill wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and looked deeply into his eyes. "We’ll beat it together, Jack." 

**The End**

  


* * *

  


> Author’s notes: Just as his time in the Iraqi prison changed Jack forever, so Sara’s   
> life was changed as well. This is the third story in a series written about Sara, her strengths and weaknesses. The first, "More Than Mere Duty," tells the story of Sara receiving word of Jack’s death during the Gulf War. The second, "A Reflection of Mere Pride," continues the story as Sara fights her way through her grief only to discover that Jack is a prisoner of war. This story picks up the thread once again. Many thanks to Gilbert O’Sullivan for the use of the song. Again my heartfelt thanks goes to Chrisbod, beta extreme.   
> 

* * *

>   
> © October, 2002 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp.  
> The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters  
> who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names,   
> titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and   
> solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.   
> 

* * *

  



End file.
